


Of Home and Comfort

by UlisaBarbic



Series: Durin's Line Endures [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Post-Battle of Five Armies, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Bilbo is indecisive, Dwarf & Hobbit Cultural Differences, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Dwarf History & Lore, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Good King Thorin, Good Uncle Thorin, Home, Post BotFA, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Team as Family, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, thorin's company - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 10:32:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16448240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UlisaBarbic/pseuds/UlisaBarbic
Summary: Bilbo is staying in Erebor through the winter until Spring will allow him to go back to the Shire. As the days pass however, Bilbo finds that he is feeling less homesick and more...at home.Thanks to Dwarrow Scholar for the KhuzdulThe lineage of Dori, Nori and Ori as well as the lineage of Bofur, Bifur and Bombur are based off ideas in the Hobbit movies. The lineage of Thorin comes from the Appendixes in LOTR.The Hobbit characters are not mine but belong to JRR Tolkien. This story takes place after my story “Calling in a King’s Favor” though you don’t necessarily have to have read that to follow this one.





	Of Home and Comfort

                Erebor really was beautiful.

                Odd thing, he supposed. A hobbit finding beauty among stone and rock but it was. Bilbo had grown up among flowers, trees and fields and they had strongly shaped his opinions of the world. Growing up in the Shire, and especially after the Fell Winter, nothing was more comforting than a warm meal, the simple light of the hearth and the sound of birds to draw you from your slumber in the morning. It had become Bilbo’s routine for years. Wake, have his meals, perhaps chat with the Gamgees some, lose himself in his books, maps, and stories and take a pleasant walk among the path.  It had become such an expected thing that to foresee anything changing it was quite frightening.

                Outside of the gardeners he employed, Bilbo had never been a Hobbit that was one for conversation. He simply never fit in with the other Hobbits, even his own kin, except for perhaps his cousins Drogo Baggins and Primula Brandybuck. Visits with Drogo were often far and in-between if for no other reason than the two of them just not taking the time out of the day to visit one another. Primula was always scurrying about, finding mischief here or there. When Bilbo had been younger, she was one of his favorite playmates, despite being him being much older than her. It never stopped them from causing their families much havoc. At one point, Bilbo pondered if they might have been something more than friends but it never went beyond pondering. When he came of age, she had met Drogo (he’d insisted they do something together actually) and he was content with that.

                Never had he felt at home with anyone else though. He would chatter as was expected when he went to the market or he would exchange pleasant ‘good mornings’ to all he passed by but overall, he had holed himself up in Bag End and had been utterly content with that. His only escapes had been his books or when he was younger, the simple make believe adventures of a young foolish fauntling. He had used to dream of the mountains and of what adventures and creatures might be lurking beyond them. His mother used to enchant him with her stories of elves, Men, dragons and all kinds of other creatures that would both terrify and excite him.

He used to wonder about what elven cities looked like. He would hear her speak of the majesty of the fountains and the wonder of the race, how they moved as if made of moonlight and stars. He had even learned a little bit of Elvish, simply out of the pure desire to be just a little closer to the creatures of his bedtime tales, though he could only catch a handful of words. He used to paint or tell stories about journeying to see the elves and the wonderful stories they would tell of the First Age. He would imagine the grand, looming cities that seemed to magically bloom out of the countryside and would wonder how anything such as that could possibly be real.

                Now, he knew.

                He used to ponder what a Dwarf Kingdom would consist of. While Dwarves had not been a main staple of his childhood, his mother and all her adventurous attitude had never failed to find new stories to amuse him. She would talk about their grand mountain homes, talking about the depths of their carving ability and the majesty of their metal work. He’d always asked if they were as flowing and elegant as the elves and she had always given him the same answer: “A rose is different from a lily but no more or less beautiful, my boy.”

                Now he knew.

                He used to imagine the horrible, terrifying presence of a dragon. They were always such tyrants in his bedtime stories and there was often tales of Ancalagon the Black and the destruction his demise brought. There was talk of the greed of dragons and how they would roam and bring misery to all that they encountered. Bilbo used to ponder about the beasts, wonder if they were really what all the stories said. After all, in his innocent youth, surely, the creatures could never be as horrible and evil and unmerciful as the songs depicted, right?

                Now, oh Yavanna help him, he knew.

He had not told anyone but he still heard Smaug’s smug tone in his head throughout the night. That, more than the creature’s size or even his burning breath, remained with him. The haunting, deep shadow to his tone, the arrogance and sheer power that oozed from his vowels like water over rocks. He would remind himself, constantly, that Smaug was gone, dead and cast into the pits of Long Lake. Yet his dreams would not relent and he slept less than he used to. Oh, perhaps some of it was due to being in a strange place but he did not suspect that truly had anything to do with it. While there was still a lot of work to do in Erebor, the bedrooms had been found and repaired first as “a good night’s sleep insures a good day’s work,” and Bilbo had to admit that as much as it was not his own bed, it was easily the most comfortable bed he had ever had the pleasure of lying in. It did little to dissuade the dreams, the memories. While he was grateful for the adventure, proud to have played a part however small in the victory and indeed, he doubted that the Took blood it had awoken in him would ever truly go back to sleep. He wanted to go home, deeply, and yet a piece of him did not. A piece of him felt that when he returned to the Shire, it would be shifted in his mind, changed forever more. The birds may not sound the same, the foods might be different.

It scared him and made him both want to go running for home and to withdraw as far as possible from it.

He wanted to see his Bag End again. He wanted to flop in his armchair and watch the trees spring from the ground. He wanted to watch the acorn he selected grow and he wanted to smell the ripening berries of the spring and summer months.

He also wanted to see the grand halls of Erebor sparkle with renewed life. He wanted to see the Tournaments of Skill that summer would bring. He wanted to see Fili and Kili come into their new roles. He wanted to meet all the wonderful families of these dwarves he had come to care so for.

He wanted away from the reminder of the dragon.

He wanted to never forget the dragon and what he represented.

Emotions were ever so confusing.

Perhaps he should not have felt so isolated, embarrassed or surprised by the dark that invaded his thoughts at night. While he took care never to call attention to the fact that he had observed, in the first few days after they had all been well enough and the rooms firm enough to support weary bodies, he had awoke in the night to a blood curdling scream. Out of his bed in an instant, he was, joining a frenzy of dwarves in the halls, most of the company but a few of the workers and soldiers of Dain’s as well. It had not taken long for Thorin to push ahead of them all and slip into the room where his two sister-sons had chosen to bunk together.

It had been Fili screaming.

Once the others had realized that Thorin and Kili were sufficient, they had left, though with anxious glances over their shoulders. While Bilbo had never meant to eavesdrop, he had always found that when Thorin let his soft side emerge, it was truly a beautiful thing to witness and that was the first night of many when Bilbo truly saw the loving parental side come out. While on their adventure, it was the King and the Leader who remained most prominent, even though Bilbo had seen pieces of the deeper Thorin emerge at times. Seeing it become his key persona was a wondrous event to observe.

After the third night, Thorin had taken to bunking with his nephews until their dreams slowly began to reflect more the hope of the present than the depression of the past. Bilbo found that even if he could not help, he would still awake with each cry of the two princes and without meaning to, he would listen for Thorin’s comforting baritone. It was impossible not to hear, at least a small sampling of it, even with the thick stone walls. It was as if the mountain itself could not help but vibrate with the command of its king. It was often spoken in the Dwarves’ language and though he did not make it a conscious effort to learn it (being ever respectful of their desire for privacy) the linguist in him was unable to stop from noticing a few patterns, namely that ‘Irak’Adad’ was definitely a word for ‘Uncle’ and that ‘irak’dashat’ was something Thorin used with both boys. It was hard to tell if it was a pet name or a title and Bilbo never bothered to ask.

His heart gave a sigh of relief when the screams came less and less and when it came that Thorin could move back to his own private quarters, his heart relaxed. It was easier to focus on others than on his own dreams and that helped them to ease in the passing weeks.

Providing what help he could during the day was also a welcomed escape. While Dain’s army had been small, by dwarf standards, every single one of them had proven to be hard workers and Thorin and the Company had welcomed every one of them. While Dain insisted that most of his folk would likely return with him to the Iron Hills when the coronation was done and Erebor stable, it was well known that at least a third of them were making plans to stay and simply send for their families. Dain seemed nice enough, from the simple interactions Bilbo had with him in the past weeks but according to nearly all “he’s no Thorin.” Apparently, there was a grand difference as well between a Dwarf Lord and a Dwarf King though Bilbo had not thought to inquire on it.

The Hobbit **had** inquired however, why they had not had an official coronation as of yet. After all, wasn’t Thorin doing the ruling work already? Certainly, he could make it official!

According to Balin, the ceremony required a lot of time and space and clothing that they had yet to recover or make. Thorin also insisted that he would not have a fancy ceremony until they had resources enough for the winter, enough rooms repaired that they could be self-sufficient and they were not quite there yet. The repairs were going smoothly and while Thranduil had provided the starts of food supplies, Erebor was beginning to build up the rest of their supplies. It was still in the beginning stages however and still needed some expansion. Kili and Fili were doing their part by going hunting whenever they could. They had been training their two wolf pets to help and thus far, it had proven successful. Thorin mused the other night that they might be stable enough within the next two weeks to do the ceremony for himself and his heirs.

That had been a surprise to Bilbo as well, that Thorin intended to crown Fili and Kili at the same ceremony. Oh, not that they would name Fili and Kili as heirs as Thorin had made that quite apparent from the very beginning, but he had never heard of a ceremony that named both ruler and future rulers at once! Dwalin had offered insight on that, said that it made the official order of succession crystal clear so there’d be no arguments if the worst ever came to pass for Thorin.

Bilbo was perfectly content not to think of that! The close call for the Durin family during that last battle had been more than enough! A good ten years removed from his life from the stress alone! The hairs on his feet would take months to recover!

Gazing upward as he wandered down the large halls, the Hobbit allowed himself a smile.

Despite being deep within the mountain, the realm of Erebor was not as dark as Bilbo had pictured it being. While, yes, there were not a lot of windows at eye level except in the royal family’s chambers, there were still windows. Large huge windows actually that let light flood into the large chambers and here, among the twisted corridors, while lanterns draped along the rocky walls, it was the crystals and gems that hung from the ceiling that filled the halls with light. He knew what some of them were—hollowed out jewels that harbored candles, resulting in refracting light in all kinds of shades. What caught the hobbit’s attention more than anything else though were the lamps and hanging lights that were filled with gems and rocks that appeared to hum with a light all their own. He’d never seen nor heard of such a thing but it truly gave the depths of Erebor an otherworldy glow. According to Thorin, Dwarves used them in most of their homes; Bilbo admitting he had never seen one before had utterly shocked him.

“Kili, let’s go!”

Smiling at the familiar voices, Bilbo glanced down as the hall opened up into the open womb of Erebor, where corridors and pathways crossed and intersected and the true hustle and bustle of the city was present. Even now, with not even half of the levels functioning, it could get deafening loud but to see it so full of life when they had entered to see little more than a husk of a tomb, it lightened his heart. Just below him, he could see Fili, in a thick winter coat with Shadow perched by his side. The blasted wolves grew like weeds! Already Shadow was up to Fili’s knees. Goldfire was a little bigger. The addition of two wolves into the blossoming city added a small level of chaos but the light heartedness that returned to the two princes’ eyes was more than worth it.

Speaking of which---

“I’m coming!” Kili’s call came as a white wolf bounded down the set of stairs and came to a rest, turning to give a half yelp at his tardy owner. A few moments later, the youngest Prince appeared, hopping on one foot as he pulled on his boots. His bow was strapped across his back and he held his quiver under his arm. All in all, Bilbo was distinctly reminded of a frantic hobbit child, struggling to rush out the door in fear of being late for the latest party. He couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up out of his throat and the two princes looked up. A wide grin spread over Fili’s face as he waved “Bye, Bilbo! We’re off to track down fresh meat!”

It was truly amazing how much meat dwarves used. Bilbo, while he was certainly fond of a good steak now and again, did miss the fruits and vegetables of the Shire. Thank Yavanna for the foods provided by Thranduil and apparently, despite what the journey had made him believe, Dwarves DID understand the need for vegetables and fruits, just not nearly as much as the regular hobbit household. When they had been in Rivendell and he had seen how Ori and Fili in particular tried to eat around anything leafy, he had considered it must have been a dwarven thing. Bombur had laughed later and told him “Oh, we eat vegetables and fruits, Bilbo. Those youngens are just picky.”

 Thorin had stated that once spring came, they would be starting up orchards and gardens. Bilbo had to admit, such a thing did intrigue him as he wondered what kind of foods Dwarves could grow amid Erebor. While Hobbits knew how to till earth, Dwarves likewise had an understanding of stone and mineral. The Baggins of Bag End found himself deeply hoping that some form of trade or alliance might be able to be established with the Shire. While they did not routinely make deals with outsiders, anything that could provide tools for their earth, Hobbits would welcome. It was a comfort to think he would not be parted from these creatures whom had grown so close to his heart upon his return home. Yes, that would be such a nice thing…

“What are you aiming for this eve?” Bilbo inquired, even as he shifted and made his way down the twisting paths to face them. Dwarves…one would think they would put railings on these ridiculously high passageways! “I believe we have enough large game for some time!”

Kili beamed and cracked his knuckles as he finally stood upright, “Birds.”

Fili added, adjusting his pack, “Much as we enjoy the goat and fish, we need some poultry! There’s some winter game about that we might be able to take down.” Grinning down, he scratched his dark furred wolf behind the ear “I betcha we can catch some Snow Geese, don’cha think, boy?”

Shadow supplied a series of licks to Fili’s outstretched hand in reply before standing on his hind legs and yelping once.

Bilbo gave a nod. Snow Geese were hard to catch but such a lovely meal when achieved. There was a distinct difference between Snow Geese of Eriador and of Rhovanion. While Bilbo had been lucky and fortunate enough to try one of each, the snow geese of the Shire (or to be more accurate, of the mountains to the west of the Shire, which he had learned ironically, Thorin and his family had lived for quite some time) were much small and less flavorful than the Snow Geese east of the Misty Mountains. While visiting the Thain as a child, he had chanced a taste of Rhovianion Snow Geese and his mouth watered at the mere thought of it. One small one had been enough to feed three hobbits and he had a feeling, with the lake nearby with so many plants, that the geese around here would hardly be small. There was no doubt that there would be a lot of happy dwarves if the two princes could achieve that goal. “Well, be careful.”

Grinning, Kili replied, “Always are…”

A low snort behind Bilbo made him turn and a rather amused Thorin walked into the light. It was rare to see Thorin without guards or advisors but he was able to lose them if need be. Coming upon his two nephews, he gave them each a critical look up and down, with a low “If I had a golden piece for every time you have said that and I’ve had to patch up at least one small wound, I would double Erebor’s treasury.” Shaking his head good naturedly though, he paused and set his sights back on them, the youngest in particular. “So, you were planning on utilizing your bow without your bracers?”

Looking down at his bare forearms and wrists, Kili shrugged. “I was going to wrap them in linen and fur, Uncle.” He added, “That’ll work for what we’re hunting. I won’t have to use the full draw strength. I can lower it.” He added “And if I _do_ have to use the full draw strength, I can buffer it enough.”

Raising a brow, Thorin asked “Why do that when you can simply slip on your forearm guards?” He knew the answer; everyone present knew the answer but it took some prodding for the stubborn princeling to admit it. It was Thorin’s own fault, he supposed, always putting up an obstinate front himself. Children learned by watching.

Turning a light pink around his nose and cheeks, Kili confessed “I…dunno where they are?”

Fili groaned.

Thorin raised that brow again, critically.

Bilbo, despite himself, laughed out loud. “Kili! You always have them with you. I dare say that there is not one day that goes by when you do not venture onto the archery field at least once. How can you not know where they are?”

“How indeed.” Thorin joined in agreement and eyed his youngest sister-son.

Even Fili was giving his younger brother an exasperated look.

Groaning, the dark haired Prince confessed “Okay, so I came in late last night, might have had too much to drink and I really don’t remember how I even got into bed.” He rubbed the back of his neck _. “_ _Klalalfâtakhaf_ , Uncle.” He offered “Come on, it’s not like Fili hasn’t done that before!”

Punching his sibling, Fili corrected “Aye, I’ve had too much to drink but I put my weapons away BEFORE I start downin’ the ale!”

“I put my arrows and bow away,” Kili countered, though he looked a bit like a pouting child when he put his hands to his hips. “And I took my bracers and boots off, I just don’t remember where.” He pointed downward and touched the toe of one of the black boots. “These are my spare ones.”

Unfolding his arms from across his chest, Thorin reached into his belt and dangled the missing leather guards by their string ties. “Draped across the third lantern post in the Royal Hall, my sister-son. I believe you’ll find your boots in nearby proximity.”

Face red again, Kili repeated, “ _Klalalfâtakhaf_ , Uncle, I’ll make sure I put them away tonight, I promise.”

Shaking his head, Thorin nevertheless relinquished the bracers and Kili wasted no time in pulling them on. “Boy, if the Maker had not had the good sense to make dwarves out of one piece of stone, your head would have been left behind ages ago and you’d have only noticed its absence when your stomach protested.”

Fili chuckled and Kili sent him a poisonous glare before tightening the straps on his bracers. “I said sorry. It won’t happen again, Uncle. I’ll grab my boots when I come in tonight, promise.”

“See that you do. Prince or not, you were raised better than to leave your clothes just lying around anywhere.” There was a slight tease to his eyes though and his tone lacked any real venom. Shaking his head, he remarked “Your mother would have my beard if she were here.”

Kili felt inclined to say “But she’s not yet. Not until Spring so…maybe you don’t have to mention it to her…” He added quickly “Especially since it won’t be happening a second time.”

“Good. Next time I’ll have you working the forge to pay for new bracers to be made when I give these to an owner more capable of caring for them.” Reaching out, he clasped the shoulders of each of his nephews in turn, “Take care. If you can get what you seek, praise be to Mahal but do not take unnecessary chances. We have enough meat to survive without it.”

Fili gave a firm nod “Promise, Uncle.”

Giving his usual cheeky grin, Kili rubbed Goldfire’s head “We’ll be back in time to hear all the praises about the yummy geese we got!” Turning, he gave a forearm bump with his brother before the two turned and headed for the gates, their two wolves trotting by their sides. They laughed and cheered as they vanished out into the snow amid the guards muttering about the curse and blessing of youth. Thorin watched them until they vanished out of sight before turning his attention back to the hobbit, who had remained at his side.

“They’re good lads, Thorin.” Bilbo offered with a smile. He didn’t say so but hearing the way Thorin spoke to them, as if he were a father scolding a son for walking through the house with muddy feet, was ridiculously endearing. “Though, where they get all their energy from, I truly am unsure.”

Chuckling lightly and offering a gentle hand on the shoulder, the King Under the Mountain declared “A mystery that the universe has yet to reveal with me either, Master Burglar and I have been with them for nearly every day of their lives.” He paused, considered and stated “I dare say that while they have grown bigger, they are still dwarflings in spirit.” Judging by the smile that had yet to leave his face, this was not deemed a sour point. “I’m glad they can express it freely.” He shifted, heading down the corridors but with a half wave to the hobbit.

Turning and accepting Thorin’s unspoken invitation to join him, Bilbo trotted by his side and responded “Well, didn’t you tell me that they are young by your standards?” He added “Hobbits age differently from Dwarves, it’s a bit much for me to follow at times.”

“Aye, you come of age at thirty-three, yes?” Thorin continued when Bilbo supplied a nod. “Dwarves come of age at seventy five, though it used to be age eighty.”

Cocking his head, Bilbo inquired “When did it change?”

“We’re not entirely sure, though common myth is that it was during the wars in the Second Age. An attempt to give recognition to the young warriors that ran into battle without hesitation.” Thorin continued down the hallway, though he slowed his stance to allow the Hobbit to keep up. “They are both of age by the modern standard but by the olden ways, Kili is still short three years. As rambunctious as they both can be, they have proven themselves to me and to Erebor though Kili has yet to have his Inner Carving.”

Bilbo eyed the Dwarf with unspoken question and Thorin responded in kind, “A final physiological change we all must endure, be we dwarf or dwarrowdam. Family of the same gender will cast aside all responsibility to be with their loved one. When Kili’s time comes, I shall pass rulership of Erebor to Balin or my sister temporarily while Fili and I help him work through it and the folk of Erebor will need no explanation other than I am attending a Carving. I shan’t frighten you with details except to say it is remarkably unpleasant.”

It truly sounded so, if only from name alone! Frowning, Bilbo asked “I take it that it used to be that a Carving indicated adulthood?”

Nodding, Thorin smiled as they passed down to the lower halls and towards the dining rooms, warm fire hearths and pleasant ale. “Correct, Bilbo. Fili had his two years before our journey, not long before his eightieth name day and it was during one of our harshest winters. Not much food to go about and even less additional money. All the same, I ensured that he passed through his time in as much comfort as I could offer. Kili was by his side, as he always has been, though I think it frightened him more than he let on.” Smiling, despite the harsh memory, he stated “He did not say as much though, determined to give his brother all the comfort and support he could muster.” Thorin’s warm eyes were the unspoken indication of the pride he carried over that action.

Bilbo gave a nod to the information Thorin provided, “They are loyal, to a fault nearly.”

Smiling, (oh, it was so nice to see Thorin smile so freely and so often!) the Dwarf King gave his thanks to Bilbo “Aye, they are and such a trait is to be admired. Among Dwarves, my friend, loyalty above all else, is to be treasured. Bravery, honor, ingenuity, we may treasure these but loyalty…that is what will make a warrior and you hold it in spades, Bilbo, moreso than a lot of the dwarves who followed Dain into battle.”

Blinking in shock and surprise, Bilbo countered “Me?! Oh, Thorin, you jest. I barely did anything.”

Eyeing the hobbit, the King Under the Mountain remarked “As all true warriors say. One who has faced down Smaug is not one who ‘barely did anything’ as you say. One who saw my madness for what it was and was unafraid to act on it. One who put my safety before his own when I was too far gone to appreciate it.” Thorin knelt a bit, hands on the hobbit’s shoulders. “You are one of the reasons that I still have a kingdom. You are one of the reasons that I still have my life and most importantly, you are one of the reasons that I still have my two sister-sons. I owe you deeply for all you have done, Bilbo Baggins, but for saving the children of my sister, I shall never be able to repay you.” There was deep honesty in his voice. “I know you shall deny you have done as much as you have but you sell yourself short, my Burglar friend.”

Cocking a brow at him “We shall never agree on this Thorin but I suppose, for the sake of harmony, I can allow you to have your interpretation as I will have mine.” He thought a moment, eyed his dear friend and smiled “Though a hot meal and that promised garden may be slightly convincing.”

The booming laughter of Thorin was echoed by the mountain and yes, Bilbo decided again, Erebor truly was beautiful.

* * *

 

“Greetings, Bilbo!”

Smiling as he entered the large kitchen, the Hobbit greeted Bofur and Bombur with a bright laugh. “And a good afternoon to you as well, my friends! Bombur, I do declare you would have half the Shire under your spell!” He meant it too. While it was certainly a different taste than the palate of the Shire, there was never anything but wonderful taste explosions in Bombur’s cooking. Now that he had a huge kitchen instead of a small campsite, he never failed to please. While there were a few dwarves courtesy of the Iron Hills with talent for the stove and fire, it was Bombur who dictated the pot and no one was about to protest it!

Laughing, Bombur turned from the large pot and placed a plate laden with fruits, chopped meats and small salad before the Hobbit. “It will be some time before dinner if the lads are successful, so I figured you might appreciate a hold-over.”

Chuckling, Bilbo accepted the offering. “You would be hard pressed to find a hobbit to reject offered food, Bombur!” He turned, addressing Bofur who was working on a carving at the table. It was a rare thing to see so few in the kitchen. “Bofur, another project?”

“Always need somethin’ to keep my hands busy, Bilbo.” Bofur chuckled, adjusting his hat a bit. “Idle hands invite Melkor’s curse.” He turned over his wooden work, examining it. “Though might need to start this one over again.”

Bombur offered from the stove “You’re too critical, Bofur.”

“Better me than a customer, Bombur!” The dwarf countered.

Bilbo swallowed and asked, “You’ve some customers already?” He knew that Bofur and Bifur had intended to set up a toy shop and Bofur was an excellent woodcarver but he did not imagine they would have the time before the city was more stable. As it was, they had more bedrooms to ready, hearths to fix, large chambers to uncover from years of rubble. Much as they had made progress and likely were nearly done, it was still much to do. Though, he supposed that if they were still night owls, like Bifur had appeared to be on the Quest, you might need something to occupy your mind late into the night.

Bofur corrected “Somewhat. Little Tilda of Dale found out Bifur made toys and he offered as payment to Bard.”

Frowning, Bilbo inquired “But, didn’t Thorin pay back Bard and Dale?”

“Aye,” Bombur responded. “He did, ten-fold what he truly owed them. You have to understand though, Bilbo that even if the crown has paid him back, we still have to pay him back on a personal level.” Smiling, the large dwarf commented “And Bifur misses making toys.”

Smiling, Bilbo commented “When your people come from Ered Luin, will there be more opportunities for it?”

“Some,” Bofur advised. “Not a lot of dwarf children though, Bilbo. Thorin said that he expects some travelers from the Grey and White Mountains. Maybe they’ll flood us with some youngens.” His face softened and brightened “Though, my nephews should keep me busy when Bombur’s lass gets here.”

Blinking, Bilbo asked “I knew you had a lot of children, Bombur,” he inquired “But all boys?”

Turning from his cooking, Bombur smiled brightly but nodded “All lads, Bilbo. Females are rare.”

Whsitling lightly, he stated “I don’t believe I could have kept my sanity. No wonder your family is so close.”

Bofur laughed aloud that time. “All dwarf families are like that, Bilbo. Your Hobbit folk aren’t?”

Frowning with a shrug, Bilbo confessed with another bite of the offered food, “Some are. Some aren’t. It was only me and my parents as a lad. A cousin or two here and there but overall, just us. I have some relatives that I must confess I am not looking forward to interacting with again.” Wrinkling his nose, he said “I dare say, I’ll be surprised if Lobelia has not tried to make off with everything in Bag End by the time I return.” His face darkened, just slightly at the thought. His poor Bag End, torn apart by greedy relatives after all the hard work his father put into it…

“Lobelia?”

Nodding to Bombur’s inquiry, he clarified. “My cousin and a rather unsightly lass at that. She’s wanted to get her hands on Bag End ever since my father built it. No love lost between us, I promise you that.”

Looking slightly hurt for his friend, Bofur asked “Thought treasure and riches weren’t appealing to Hobbits.”

“Usually not,” Bilbo admitted. “Bag End is a large smial in a great location though and there are lots of well-made furniture within it. She’d love a chance at that.” He added, in hopes of consoling the worried look. “But, even if they think me dead, my will makes it clear that she’s not to get a speck of anything in Bag End. I suspect she’ll try to fight it but the Thain has no love lost for her either. She’ll be fighting him for months and that’ll give me plenty of time to return in the Spring and sort it all out.” That was his hope at any rate. No point in fretting over it when there was naught to do about it until the frost cleared for spring. He swallowed and anxious to shift the subject, asked “Any progress on some wings for your family, what with as large a space as you’ll need.”

Bombur blinked “Oh, the lower levels are gettin’ addressed in the next week or so.”

Surprised, the Hobbit asked “What? But you were part of Thorin’s company. Don’t you get some of the higher leveled wings? I know Gloin and Balin and…”

“Family lineage, Bilbo.” Bofur responded. “Only noble families are allowed near the royal chambers. It’s the King and his family on the upper levels, then lords on the level below and then minor lords. All non-nobility live on the bottoms levels. Easier to get access to our shops and the mines.” He smiled brightly though and there was no lie in his eyes. “Nothing wrong with that, Bilbo. We’re commoners but we ain’t going to be suffering poverty anymore. Thorin made sure of that.” He nudged Bombur “And all my little nephews won’t ever want for anything ever again! That’s all I ask!”

“But…wait…” Scratching his head, Bilbo asked, “You mean Gloin and Dori and the others are nobility?”

Sitting down, Bombur offered “Not Dori. Well, sort of…” He eyed Bofur, “Brother, you’re a lot better at this than I am.”

Laughing, Bofur held his mug up “I’ll need some ale for it, Bombur.”

“You always look for any excuse for ale.”

“As if that’s a bad thing?” Bofur grinned at his sibling’s roll of the eyes but he did receive a freshly filled mug. “Alright, Bilbo, lemme see if I can make this easy for you.” He eyed the Hobbit “And then one day later this week, you can explain the Hobbit Thain-ness, deal?”

“Oh, Yavanna, I will require some wine that day.” Bilbo chuckled. “But I am agreeable to that!” He offered his plate to Bofur as an offering, a truly noble statement from a Hobbit.

Snagging a piece of meat, Bofur pulled over some parchment that he had been scribbling some carving plans on and turned it over. “Okay, Bilbo, so there’s seven Dwarf Families: Broadbeams, Firebeards, Ironfists, Stiffbeards, Blacklocks, Stonefoots and Longbeards. Longbeards are also called the Line of Durin because they’re from the first Dwarf created, Durin.”

Bilbo nodded, “Alright, so that is Thorin’s family.”

“Aye,” Bombur offered with a sip of his own ale. “Thorin is a direct descendent of Durin’s firstborn. Because he has no children, Fili and Kili were chosen by him as his direct heirs. Because they still fall within Thorin’s direct family, the children of his sister, it’s as if they were his own blood.”

Allowing a smile, Bilbo countered “Well, if what Thorin has told me is true, he nearly raised them with her.”

Bofur laughed “He did that! He was far better at it than he would like you to believe though.” He waited for the hobbit to get over his chuckle and continued “Durin was the first Dwarf created and so his Line is King because he has say over all the other families.” He paused, considered where to take his explanation next. Dwarf history was quite complex and they did have a degree of secrecy to it but as far as Bofur was concerned, Bilbo was as much dwarf as any born with that blood. “Balin and Dwalin are considered Dwarf Lords because they’re also from Durin’s Line but not his direct line. They share a great-great grandfather, Nain II but Balin and Dwalin descend from Nain’s second son, Borin. Borin had one son, Farin, who had two sons, Fundin and Groin. Dwalin and Balin are sons of—“

“Fundin,” Bilbo supplied, “I remember Balin’s signature on the contract ‘Son of Fundin.”

Nodding, Bofur smiled “See, you get it! Gloin and Oin are sons of Groin.”

“I see…so Gloin and Oin are first cousins to Balin and Dwalin.” Bilbo thought a bit. Hobbit lineage could get quite complicated too so this was not necessarily new to him. It was different to be doing it with non-Hobbits though! Everyone in the Shire could pretty much recite their lineage back at least five generations. “And that means that they are Thorin’s…third cousins?” He hoped he had done his math right.

Grinning, Bofur nudged Bombur “See? Hobbits understand this stuff!”

Laughing aloud, Bilbo commented “Oh, we keep track of our lines as well, Bofur. Though, you haven’t explained where your family and Dori’s family fit into all this.” He eyed him, “Do you understand Dori’s lineage?” He felt inclined to add “Or, perhaps I should ask Dori.”

“No worries, Bilbo.” Bofur smiled. “We used to work together in Ered Luin, especially when it came to Kili and Fili. Ori liked to play with them on occasion, even if he was about fifty years older.”

That would be a conversation for another day, much as Bilbo wanted to hear more about wee Durins and how these wonderful companions of his had come to know one another, “Alright, so, Balin, Dwalin, Gloin and Oin are all considered Dwarf Lords because they are descendants of the Line of Durin but not direct descendants because they’re through someone other than the first born.” Bilbo waited for confirmation and Bofur nodded.

“Exactly. Now, Dori and his family is a bit of…well, see, Dori, Nori and Ori share the same mother but different fathers. Not real common with us.” There was definitely a degree of scandal in that tone but Bofur did not linger on it. “So, they’re of the line of Durin but way back from the First Age and descended from a third born daughter. So, by the time we get to now, that’s…well, honestly, I’m not sure how divided it is but..”

“Enough that the blood link is so thin to not matter?” Bilbo asked softly.

Bombur nodded. “Exactly.”

Bofur went on, “Now, our parents are Broadbeams, so one of the other six dwarf families. Kind of like Dori’s family, we’re descended from a daughter that wasn’t a first born from the Second Age so, we don’t have enough blood link to claim any nobility.” He chuckled a bit “Kind of funny we wound up traveling with so much noble blood, isn’t it?”

Taking all this in, Bilbo asked “So, all your families will have wings in the lower levels?”

“Aye but don’t misunderstand Bilbo.” Bofur assured him “It will be quarters to be envied. Thorin made sure that we would never want for anything and I’d imagine he’s looking for official titles to give us.” He added “Erebor is beautiful no matter what level you’re in.”

Nodding in understanding (and he could hardly argue that), Bilbo confessed “It makes sense, Bofur. Not as complicated as some people make it out to be though I suspect some may disagree with me. I’ve always had a thing for lineage.” Smiling, he felt inclined to ask “But if I may…because he’s of the highest dwarf house, couldn’t Thorin _make_ you a Lord?” He’d seen it done in the Shire history, the Thain bestowing honorary nobility on someone, though by now, the power the Thain held was pretty much forgotten to time.

Silence.

Bombur and Bofur exchanged a glance. “I….well, technically yes but…”

Baffled by the reaction, the hobbit softly swallowed “Did…I say something wrong? I did not mean—“

Bofur recovered quickly “Oh, don’t worry Bilbo. You didn’t say anything wrong. It’s just…well, we…”

“It’s been done once,” Bombur filled in “Way back in the Second Age. It’s just not normally done and you can’t ask for it. It has to be given and I think the third Durin was the last to do that.”

“Well, why ever not?” The hobbit asked sincerely. “Surely, you are worthy of it!”

“Lordship is passed through bloodlines, Bilbo. If the Royal Family chooses to grant it to someone outside of the bloodline, it’s…well, it’s a pretty bold statement.” Bofur clarified. “See…” He struggled to think of how to explain without getting too much into their religion. Not that he minded but he didn’t want to overwhelm his little Hobbit friend! After all, there was time until spring and he was grateful for the time he could talk with Bilbo. His heart ached for the day when the Hobbit would be leaving them to go back to the Shire. Never before had he praised snow and winter so much. “See, when the rebuilding of Arda happens, the Line of Durin will stand by Mahal’s side to help dictate it. The Lords will be in charge of separate portions of the world. To proclaim a Dwarf family Lord is to state that you will defend your decision before the Maker and proclaim that you stand by their worthiness.”

Bombur smiled about his beard and lay a hand on the hobbit’s shoulder. “We don’t generally go making statements like that to the Valar.”

Bilbo was about to argue that it would hardly be an untrue statement when the door was burst open and two young princes came in, two wolves on their heels. Each one of them held a goose in each hand and it seemed that there were several strapped the backs of the wolf pups. “Victory, Bombur!” Fili’s booming voice echoed and smiles erupted all around.

The cook stood up, laughing aloud “Victory, I’d say!” The birds the two Princes produced were at least as big as Bilbo’s torso and the largest one took up half Goldfire’s back! Oh, they would be eating well tonight! He accepted the geese from the enthusiastic hunters and after a moment, he grabbed two pieces of sausage and tossed it to the two wolves who greedily accepted the offering. He caught glances of the two princes’ face and tossed them each a chunk of seasoned meat as well, “Now, out of the kitchen, you two! I won’t have you sneaking bites of the geese before they’re done!”

“Aw,” Kili pouted “But we caught ‘em!”

Standing, Bilbo lay a hand on his arm “Come on, lads. Let’s go share the good news with your uncle.” He added to Kili “And make sure we put our things away this time, eh?”

* * *

 

If he were to be taken from this world right now, Bilbo was certain he would be at peace.

The cooked snow geese had been divine and he was fairly certain that even his Hobbit stomach would be satisfied well into the evening until the time came for breakfast. Bombur’s spices were applied expertly and the two princes had done well in locating perhaps the largest fowl they could. Their hunting skills were hardly to be teased. Thorin had trained them well and the entire Company, as well as the lingering dwarves continuing to work were ever grateful. Full bellies ensured that hard work would be done the following day.

Bilbo was on his way to his own room for a well-deserved sleep when the laughter from one of the repaired halls caught his ear. Padding down the halls, being careful not to slip on the blasted narrowed walkways, he found the Company scattered about the floor before a roaring fire. Thorin, Dwalin and Balin seated amid chairs, Bofur and Bifur on the hearth itself, Bombur on a separate cushioned chair. Dori and Ori seated on a large lounge as Nori leaned against the wall and Gloin and Oin talking from small stools by Balin’s left side. Sitting on the floor before the fire were Fili and Kili, their wolf pups in their laps.

A sharp twinge cut Bilbo’s heart.

His mother and father used to gather before the fire in much the same fashion, telling stories and songs as the night faded away, especially in the cold witner months. The roaring fire painted the two princes with orange and red as they scratched their pets behind the ears. The laughter from the room was reminiscent of a much simpler time, a time when Bilbo felt he belonged somewhere, when he did not feel quite so isolated and different. The inviting atmosphere of the room was almost overwhelming.

“Hey, Bilbo!” Fili suddenly called and waved. “Come on in! The fire feels amazing!”

Attention drawn to him, the hobbit found himself smiling as Gloin waved towards him as well and Ori called “Please, Bilbo! Join us!”

Taking careful steps inside, he glanced around for a seat before opting to sit beside the princes on the floor near the flames. Kili tugging on his arm to join him likely had little to do with it however.

“Glad you could join us, Bilbo,” Balin smiled “We were simply sharing a collection of stories to drive out the cold of the night. I’m afraid you have missed some of the funnier tales of young Fili and Kili.”

Fili pouted “All the better! Uncle needs to pick on someone else!”

Thorin laughed and blew a smoke ring in good nature “With all the grief you two have given me, I consider it appropriate payback.”

The room erupted into laughter at that point and Dori commented, “Thorin, you know that they get such behaviors from you.”

The King’s response was cut off by Nori suddenly laughing and demanding, “Kili, are you braiding that pup’s fur?”

The young Prince glanced up and corrected “His name is Goldfire, Nori!”

Rolling his eyes, the dwarf countered “Alright, lad, are you braiding Goldfire’s fur?”

Nodding firmly, Kili insisted “He’s a royal hunting pup. He should look the part of the bird killer he is!” His fingers busied themselves again in the slightly long fur among the white furred creature’s back. Goldfire only yawned widely and patiently let his master continue his work, resting his head in the boy’s lap. There was not enough fur to do a long braid but the small little plaits ran the length of the wolf’s spine, from shoulder to tail base. An rather odd look and yet Fili was quick to start to do the same with Shadow’s fur, though the black furred wolf took offense and rolled onto his back and was not satisfied until the golden haired prince had supplied several rubs to his belly.

Dwalin remarked “Fierce hunters, indeed.”

Fili glanced up “Hey, they are! They’re just relaxed right now.”

Kili added “Besides, they don’t have to be on guard. You all aren’t going to do anything and they know it!”

Bilbo spoke up, “So who has who trained? You to them or them to you?”

The two Princes exchanged glances, shrugged and when Shadow whined again, Fili was quick to supply a rub to the creature’s stomach once more to cease his whining.

Thorin snorted and eyed Bilbo, “An excellent question with an obvious answer.”

Laughter broke out and despite the teasing, the gentle ruffle of Kili’s hair by Nori was done with nothing but affection. Bilbo laughed along with the others. A deep hearted, belly laugh. The whole room just felt…right. Whole. Warm. It was a sense of belonging that he had not felt in years. When the chuckling died down, Fili eyed the Hobbit and remarked “Bilbo, your hair’s long enough to braid. You should try it.”

Blinking, Bilbo reached into his curls and pulled one out, measuring the length. It had grown quite extensively. He supposed he should have expected it. After all, the many months on the road and now, the time spend amid the city, he had hardly had time to trim it. Yet, looking around the room at this collection of dwarves, all with some form of braids (even Kili now, though they were short ones near his face) he suddenly felt no desire to, despite what the hobbits at home might have said. Oh, long hair unless you were female was often seen as scruffy looking and uncivilized but he saw nothing uncivilized about this group of folk. This group of strong, honorable…loyal folk.

So, with a smile, he said, “I must admit, I have never done braids for myself. I doubt I could make them look decent.”

Dori spoke out, patting his leg, indicating the spot in front of him, “Do come here then, Bilbo and I’ll handle that!”

Without a moment’s hesitation, the hobbit complied and let Dori work his magic. He lost himself amid the feeling, amid the gentle teases about ‘don’t make him look like Fili, we don’t want to scare anyone’ and the stories of drunken escapades that no one was spared from. He lost himself in the feeling of contentedness when the strong meal and fire began to work its magic and Kili began to utilize his uncle’s leg for a pillow. He lost himself amid Ori’s gentle singing at the request of the others. He lost himself amid Dwalin’s loud, boisterous claims of ‘we’ll only need a week before we can do a coronation, mark my works.’ He lost himself amid the deep tone of Thorin reminiscing about the lost days of winter in Erebor and amid Bofur’s songs of stone women and night gems that led lost children home. He lost himself amid this feeling of connectedness, amid the feeling of contentedness.

For the first time since he left Bag End, he felt home.

**Author's Note:**

> Khuzdul Translations:  
> Irak'Adad: Uncle  
> Irak'Dashat: Nephew  
> Klalalfâtakhaf: Expression of awkwardness used when one has embarrassed themselves or their family.


End file.
